


The Happy Couple

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Awkward Kissing, Best Friends, Bowlegs Are Everything, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Restaurant Owner Benny, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas gulps, leaning in just a little. Dean closes the distance, slopping their lips together, and wow, were Cas’s lips always this nice? It’s like sinking into a new mattress, all soft and warm and—</p><p>“Perfect,” Benny states after the flash. He smiles congenially at the profusely blushing men. “Thanks, guys.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Happy Couple

 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Farmhouse, if I could have your undivided attention. We have a very special anniversary. Dean and Cas are celebrating their first year as a married couple."

The small shack bursts into a symphony of applause. Some people even whistle at the height and intensity of a steaming tea kettle. The two wave shyly at their captive audience.

The waiter, a short but stocky man with a beard fit to be an arts and crafts project made out of salt and pepper grains and a shaved head, reserves a toothy smile for his customers. "The first few years go by way too fast. My husband, Cesar, we've been together for seven years, and we’re still chasing monsters together— our kids, that is. Matty's a handful. His sister's on the way, and I've felt her, she's a kicker."

"Yeah, Dean and I, we're inseparable,” Cas replies. “Right, babe?"

Dean reaches over the table to cover Cas's hand with his own, eyes still on the waiter, Jesse, from his nametag. "He means more than just emotionally," he points out. "I'm surprised I could drive us here today. My legs are Jell-O, if you know what I mean."

Jesse disburses his blush with a laugh, "Uhm, I'll be right back to take your order."

"I'm thinking Chocolate Cream Pie tonight," Dean says once Jesse is out of earshot. "What about you?"

"Dean, is it possible to be _this_ turned on by food?"

"Cas, don't be ridiculous. Food is _always_ better than sex."

Cas's galaxy blue eyes blow wide when he spots something on the menu. "The Black Forest Cherry Tort has more layers than the Earth's Core—or your sexuality, for that matter."

Dean makes a point out of raising his eyebrows. "Are you satisfied?"

Cas preens like a duck, tilting his head to the side and tucking his stubbled jaw in the fold of his beige trenchcoat. "Definitely. Especially after that comment about your legs."

"Just trying to sell the bit."

"Mmhmm, by drawing attention to your bowlegs."

"Hey, my bowlegs are a godsend, alright? Never forget it. Besides, it's not like I was lying to the guy any more than usual," Dean says, leaning back into booth with a smug smile, "they _are_ hella bendy."

Cas rolls his eyes. " _One_ night, Dean. You had _one_ night with Lisa Braeden."

"Yeah, which alone could've been cause for bowlegs."

Cas scoffs, though he can't keep a smile off his face as he comments, "You're a dork."

"And you're welcome,” Dean replies, scoffing too.

They’ve done this for the past few months so much it’s become a process: They go to a new restaurant, one of them (usually Cas, because people pretty much fold for those baby blues) run into a random worker, apologize, and casually mention his and Dean’s so-many year anniversary. Then, usually after dinner, a different employee who heard from the grapevine (or, in this place’s case, the fishing line) will come up, announce the news to the other customers, who will cheer, and then offer a dessert on the house.

It’s a flawless plan. No respecting establishment refuses true love.

Before they can come to a mutual decision on their order, Jesse returns to their table. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but my manager wants to know if you guys could pose for a picture? We have a wall in the back cataloguing pretty much all our customer’s anniversaries.”

“Uh, sure,” Dean replies, turning to Cas. They both supply a shrug.

“Sweet. My manager Benny will come back with a Polaroid. You guys just do your thing. Most people lean over the table for a kiss, no big deal.” Dean and Cas freeze. Well, this is new. Even though they’re both sheet white, Jesse must take their expressions for embarrassment, because then he gushes, “You guys are too cute. I’ll give you a few more minutes to look over the menu.”

Needless to say, both men aren’t prepared when Benny, an equally burly man with a penny-colored beard and light Louisianan accent, rounds their table. Why are they so nervous? Dean, especially. He’s notorious for taking and breaking hearts. Besides, it’s not like he and Cas probably haven’t done this before with their bodies sloshing with alcohol.

Dean turns back to Cas, whose puffy pink lips part a little wider, matching his eyes. Dean takes the initiative to nod. They have to sell the part, lest they be morally condemned in front of a room full of people. (Plus, this place has pretty good food; it would be a shame to be kicked out.)

Cas gulps, leaning in just a little. Dean closes the distance, slopping their lips together, and wow, were Cas’s lips always this nice? It’s like sinking into a new mattress, all soft and warm and—

“Perfect,” Benny states after the flash. He smiles congenially at the profusely blushing men. “Thanks, guys.”

 

They go with something called Sex in a Pan, which is way better than it should be.

***

"Hey Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"When's our real anniversary?" Dean asks. They decided to walk the lake bordering the establishment, which Dean hates to admit shimmers a blue as rich as Cas’s eyes. The sound of the water licking the shore puts Dean at ease, though, as well as the rock he picks up skipping along it.

"You mean when we first met?" Cas laughs, pulling the apples in his cheeks forward to suspend on his trench-deep smile lines. His cheeks rosy like apples too. "Dean, you remember this story."

Dean shoves his hands in his jean pockets and tells himself it's for protection against the cold, even though it's only August. "Humor me."

"September 18th, 2008, around ten at night. You were sitting on the bench at the bus stop on the corner of 19th next to the Gas n' Sip, where I work, sporting, no surprises here, enough flannel to play a never-ending game of Checkers on. I come up behind you, tap on your shoulder, and you proceed to freak the hell out—"

"Cas, c'mon," Dean chides, "it was dark and virtually every shop was closed and someone pops up from behind me like a friggin' angel or something?! How do you expect someone _not_ to freak out?"

"Dean, who's telling the story?"

"Sorry."

"You pull out a knife and nearly go for my chest,” Cas laughs, eyes widening at the memory. “I'm freaking out now, so I jump back and go, 'Sorry, I just wanted to know if you had an extra bus pass.'"

Dean's green eyes crinkle easier than a to-go bag. "You were so cute. You were still in your work clothes, the blue vest over the purple stripped sweater, and your hair was sticking out in every direction. You were soaked in blue slushy too, remember that?"

Cas chuckles lightly, "I do. I was strictly on inventory after that."

"But it did help you score a date with Nora. She must have seen a slip of your rock hard abs while you were stocking something on the top shelf."

"Ah, but it wasn't a date."

"God, don't even remind me," Dean groans, kicking a stone with the toe of his beige boot. "It was your first date. I helped dress you up and everything. I felt like a proud father sending his son to prom with half a dozen condoms and a case of beer.” Dean pauses. He feels like he’s molding a sandmansion out of dry sand with the point he’s trying to make. "You know she made the biggest mistake of her life, right? You're my best friend, so I'm kinda obligated to say it, but you're pretty amazing."

Cas turns his head with a shy smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah,” Dean affirms. “I know I don't say it often, but thank you. Seriously. I mean, who else is gonna con restaurant chains with me by faking being a happily married couple?"

"That's true. Although…"

"Although?"

Cas's stops them with hands around Dean’s waist and warm, sugary breath on his neck. He beats the syllables into the spiral of Dean’s ear like a drum in sync with their hearts: "There's not much faking from my end.”

Dean moans. He actually moans.  He's been caught in this fantasy before, but he always wakes up (usually in a puddle, to his own discomfort). But Cas does the honor of circling the small of his back rather than pinching him, which is enough to convince Dean this is reality. "I agree, but we could, uhm…we could rehearse the kiss," he adds, tongue darting to lick his lips. "You know, for authenticity purposes."

Cas laughs, deep and rich, saying, just before closing the distance between them, "Happy early anniversary."


End file.
